


fifteen minutes

by strawberryicebreakers (TheUltimateFandomer)



Series: crazy little thing called love [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Papillon (2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Enjoy!, Hair-pulling, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, author regrets literally everything that led to this fic being written, charlie radiates dumb jock energy, gratuitous liberties taken when it comes to physics, i'm sorry dad, put that together and you get a shitty 80's VHS-esque porno, rami radiates dumb twink energy, shocker I know, this is for tony so he'll shut up about me not writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateFandomer/pseuds/strawberryicebreakers
Summary: "May I join you?"





	fifteen minutes

**Author's Note:**

> tony is a gremlin. rami and charlie are gremlins. everyone and everything that contributed to me writing this fic are gremlins.
> 
> I listened to "fifteen minutes" by mike krol for the whole time I wrote this. do with that what you will.
> 
> this is the bathroom: [https://www.homedepot.com/p/DreamLine-Enigma-X-44-in-to-48-in-x-76-in-Frameless-Sliding-Shower-Door-in-Brushed-Stainless-Steel-SHDR-61487610-07/204371080?cm_mmc=Shopping%7CG%7CVF%7CD29B%7C29-23_FIXTURES%7CDreamline%7CPLA%7c71700000033376892%7c58700004047854773%7c92700039473440575&gclid=CjwKCAiAv9riBRANEiwA9Dqv1ZwEhCESX0xK7aQibylXsnlZgpyY03CxpYWeWy6EWaJZ0n4R7uBQgxoCXBAQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds] just imagine that the door is on the left side, though. thanks, home depot!

Sitting in a hotel room while Malek showered in the ensuite was not how Charlie pictured his break to go, but hey, he isn’t complaining. No, not when he knows that the other man left his clothes out here, meaning that he’ll have to come out and get them, flushed and wrapped in a towel, looking like a doll. Charlie can wait if it means seeing that. 

He got up, meandering over to the refrigerator. Of course, there isn’t a damn water bottle inside, no, there’s only the sparkling fruit juice bottles Malek insists on drinking. Charlie rolled his eyes before grabbing a red one, thinking with the logic that most red things (Gatorade, sodas, other miscellaneous drinks) are usually best when they’re red. The cap comes off easily, and Charlie raises it to take a sip, but of course, nothing can go right, can it?

One of Malek’s shoes had snuck up on him, lying in the shadow of the king-sized bed. The drink goes up, and comes straight down onto Charlie’s shirt, soaking him and wrecking the white button-up he wore. 

“Shit,” he swore, looking around for a washcloth, sponge, fountain, anything to clean himself off. He didn’t want to look like a dumbass who can’t handle a plastic bottle in front of the guy he wants to fuck six ways to Sunday, that’d be a complete turn-off to both parties involved, but now, covered in a red stained shirt and hair that reeked of raspberries, he resigned himself to no other choice than waiting for Malek to get out of the shower and hope that he’d have enough time to wash off before they got called out to go to the Wired interview.

Having enough time was unlikely, though. Malek is a princess when it comes to getting ready; he needs enough time to shower, shave, put on whatever shit makes his skin look so nice, and comb through his hair a thousand times per strand.

Okay, maybe Charlie’s making that last bit up, but honestly, the man is a metrosexual if there ever was one.

Slowly, an idea comes to his mind. 

If he won’t have enough time to shower _after_ Malek, nothing is stopping him from showering _with_ Malek. He’d usually be afraid of rejection, but Charlie’s seen the looks Malek’s given him ever since they met for _Papillon_ , which inspires confidence. He shoots up, quickly checking himself over in the mirror above the dresser before walking to the door of the ensuite. Charlie’s about to knock, but he checks the doorknob just to make sure, It’s unlocked.

That’s odd.

The door opens easily enough, and Charlie is greeted with a sight he plans on never forgetting. A large room, with tan walls and dark tiles, lies before him, with the shower a box in the dead center of the room. Three of the four sides are walled in thick ceramic, with a walk-in sliding door made of glass. He can see Malek’s form through the fogged-up door; the smaller man’s lithe body looks like a piece of artwork. Malek somehow hasn’t noticed his guest, so taking a few steps forward, Charlie knocks on the glass.

“Hey,” he starts, but is cut off by the sliding of the door. Malek looks up at him, all doe-eyes and wet hair, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint that Charlie’s built up over the years for him to not ask him to out for a drink.

“Charlie?” Malek asks, voice low. He takes in the state of his companion, and his nose scrunches in confusion. “What happened?”

“I spilt one of those drinks you have in the fridge,” Charlie says, huffing a laugh to himself. “I figured I’d shower, but since we only have,” he looks at his watch, “fifteen or so minutes left until the interview, mind if I join you?”

Malek looks him up and down before seeming to settle on a decision. He nods, and Charlie grins. “Great, I promise I won’t be a hassle,” Charlie says, and Malek closes the door. Stripping off his clothes, he tries to will his dick to not be rock-hard during this. He doesn’t want to freak Malek out. He grabs the handle, and slides the door open, hopping inside quickly. 

Malek’s turned away from him, facing the shower head. The water pours over his narrow frame, and Charlie knows his efforts at hiding his arousal have gone out the goddamn window and into the bird’s nest. All of a sudden, it’s too warm, he can’t breathe, and he realizes that this might’ve been a bad decision. Seeing Malek’s body during filming was one thing, as grime and dirt aren’t exactly the best aphrodisiacs, but this? Soft, tanned skin with freckles splayed across his shoulders and hips as if they were personal hand-holds for Charlie? It’s too much to handle. 

Right as he decides to get out, that he’ll just wash his hair in the sink, Malek turns around. He seems to remember that he isn’t alone right as he meets Charlie’s eyes, and, without pause, his gaze goes straight to Charlie’s cock, harder than hell with no way of being able to pass it off as anything but.

Malek’s eyes go wide for a moment before he looks up at Charlie, who’s trying to melt down the drain in embarrassment. “That’s, uh,” Malek says, and his brain seems to be short-circuiting. He swallows, throat moving, and he licks his lips. “Wow.”

“Listen, I’m, uh, I’m sorry, this is awkward as hell, you shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Charlie says, rambling, “I’ll go, I-” and that’s all he manages to get out before Malek’s knees seem to give out from under him. The height difference they have when standing leads to his mouth being aligned perfectly to Charlie’s dick, which seems to be the end goal. “Ho-holy shit,” Charlie says, voice hoarse.

“Do you mind if I,” Malek motions his head towards Charlie’s member.

“Oh, god, no,” Charlie says. “Whatever you want to do, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Perfect,” Malek says, and takes no pause in engulfing the head of Charlie’s dick into his mouth. His eyes flutter shut, and he pauses for just a moment.

“I’m dreaming,” Charlie thinks. “I have to be fucking dreaming. There’s no way this is actually happening.” His thoughts are interrupted by Malek beginning to move, mouth sliding as he tries to get as much of Charlie in him as he can. His tongue stars to move, and Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his skull. “Holy shit,” he says, threading a hand through Malek’s curls. He gives them an experimental tug, which causes Malek to let out a moan around the dick in his mouth. Charlie groans, pulling a bit more, and Malek’s moaning like an 80’s pornstar, loose and low as his arms fall to his sides. “Listen,” Charlie says, trying to find the brainpower to form a sentence, “I don’t want to sound all high and mighty, but it’s okay if you can’t fit everything into your mouth. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Malek seems to take that like a challenge. He looks up, and slides off of Charlie’s cock before sliding right back on, going all the way down. Charlie’s eyes meet his, and Malek’s eyes are visibly tearing up at the effort. Charlie’s never seen anything hotter in his fucking life. Malek slides back up to the tip before slamming down once, twice, three times in quick succession. The wide, innocent eyes staring up at Charlie couldn’t contrast more with the utter state of Malek choking on a dick in a hotel bathroom like a common street whore. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks, and Charlie comes dangerously close to blowing his load in the other man’s mouth. Hands find themselves into Malek’s hair again, and he slides the other man off.

“What,” Malek says, coughing. “What did I do wrong?” He looks up, and Charlie cups his face.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Charlie says, voice shaking. “I just-, I didn’t want to come in your mouth.”

“What if that’s what I wanted?”

Jesus Christ. “What if I had a better plan?” He isn’t sure where that confidence came from, nor the suave voice he just put on, but it seems to get the idea to Malek quick.

“Like what?” Malek purrs, standing up. He moves into Charlie’s chest until they’re almost touching, and he walks his fingers up the other man’s chest before settling his hands on either side of Charlie’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, Charlie sees a bottle of lube nestled between the shampoo and conditioner bottles. He laughs.

“You little shit,” Charlie says, reaching for the bottle. “You planned on this, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Malek says, feigning innocence, “maybe not. Why, are you mad?”

“On the contrary, darling.”

The pet name causes Malek to take a deep breath. Charlie seems to get the message.

“You like it, like being called darling?” he asks, and sees Malek’s head shakily nod.

“God, yes-”

“Okay then,” Charlie says, opening the bottle and slicking himself up. “You need me to work you open?” Malek’s head is tilted downwards, and Charlie can’t hear his mumble over the water. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Already did that,” he whispers, smiling a bit, and Charlie groans.

“Of course you did,” he says, and slides each of his large hands over Malek’s waist before resting just below his ass. “I’m going to lift you up, you think you can grip well enough?” Nodding, Malek bites his lip. “Okay, here we go.”

Charlie lifts the other man up by the thighs, (because honestly, he weighs next to nothing) and aligns himself with Malek before sliding in. A high-pitched keen comes from the smaller man, and Charlie takes a few steps forwards until they’re both under the shower head with Malek’s back pressed against the wall. Charlie’s hands glide from his thighs to his waist. 

“Oh my God,” Malek moans, all sense of coherence leaving him as Charlie begins to move. “Oh my fucking God, don’t stop.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Charlie says, pulling out of Malek, cock catching on his rim before he slams back inside. Malek’s thighs tighten around him, trying to lock him in place every time he goes up to the hilt, and Charlie’s hands grip his delicate waist, certain to leave a bruise. Between his groans and Malek’s pants, it sounds like every debauched video Charlie’s seen online, with the only exception being that Malek isn’t some blonde bimbo with $80 tits; instead, Charlie’s fucking the life out of a small Egyptian with a frankly illegal ass.

“More, please,” Malek begs as his head thuds against the shower wall. “Harder, Charlie.”

The use of his name seems to stir something out of Charlie, who increases his pace with fever. He’s ramming into the smaller man now, there’s nothing sweet about it, and still, Malek’s begging for more. “Look at me, darling” Charlie snaps, one hand moving to pull Malek’s hair to turn his face towards him. 

Malek’s mouth is wide open as he pants, meaningless cut-off swears spilling out. His green eyes lock onto Charlie’s before abruptly shutting. “Oh, fuck,” he cries out, “right there, right fucking there!”

Spurred on by the display, Charlie changes his angle to ensure that he continues to hit Malek’s prostate, anything to keep the other man making noise like that. With every thrust, the loud moans coming from Malek dissolve into high-pitched whimpers as all he can focus on is the cock rammed in his ass and the hands on his waist. Charlie can see his eyes screw up, can see how he bites his lip to keep everything inside. “Let it out, princess,” Charlie says. “Look me in the eyes when you come for me.”

With that, the smaller man’s eyes focus once again on Charlie, and he lets go, going boneless in Charlie’s arm as he comes, with the only thing holding him up being the wall behind him as he coats their chests in fluid.

Charlie groans, and feels his own release building up. He starts to slide out, determined to hold himself together, but stops as he feels the thighs around his waist tighten as Malek draws him back inside. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, and a nod is all he can get out from his blissed-out partner. The nod is all he needs, though, as a moan escapes his lips as he releases himself inside Malek, conscience tunneling until all he can think of is his partner.

After a moment, he regains the strength required for him to pull out without dropping Malek, although he does continue to hold the other man, who still seems to be veering on the edge of passing out. He cleans the other man as best as he can with the complimentary soap before carrying him bridal-style out of bathroom, grabbing a towel on the way out. 

Wrapping the towel around Malek, Charlie deposits the man onto the bed before drying himself off. Even though it wasn’t what he had in mind, the shower still managed to do the trick, cleaning all remnants of red out of his hair. He pulls a blue button-up over his chest, sliding on the jeans and watch he had on earlier as he walks over to Malek again. A knock on the door breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Mr. Malek? Mr. Hunnam?” a voice questions, and Charlie looks over to Malek, who’s still lying half-asleep on the bed, naked save for the towel. Turning back to the door, he can hear the woman on the other side of the door rummaging, most likely for a key, and he bolts over to the door before she can open it.

“Hello,” he says, trying to aim for a casual, definitely-didn’t-just-fuck-my-co-star look, and the woman doesn’t seem to care.

“Mr. Hunnam?” she asks again, and he nods. “Okay, may I see Mr. Malek as well?”

Charlie’s eyes go wide. “I’m, uh, he’s,” he stammers, “he’s indisposed at the moment.”

Her eyes narrow. “Well, can you tell him to hurry up? Your break ended eight minutes ago, the car is waiting to take you to your interview.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

The woman glares at him, and some part of Charlie thinks that she must know what happened. She says nothing, though, and turns to leave. Closing and locking the door behind him, Charlie goes over to Malek, who’s starting to stir. “Baby, you’ve got to get up,” he says, voice gentle. Malek just turns over, and Charlie goes to the other man’s suitcase, choosing a black button-up with gray slacks. “Put these on,” he says, “and quick, please.”

Malek complies, pulling himself together enough to get the clothes on, along with the shoes Charlie tripped over earlier. Charlie slings an arm around Malek, and the pair leave the room.

A few minutes later, sitting side-by-side in a taxi, Malek leans his head against Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie looks down, and Malek’s smirk greets him.

“We’ve got to do that again sometime,” he says, and Charlie couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> while researching for writing this, I saw someone refer to written porn as "one-handed reading" and I fucking cackled. thanks, edmund white!
> 
> started writing this at 10:48p.m, finished it at 1:33a.m. anything's possible if you don't sleep!
> 
> fun fact: the position they use is called the hanging garden. thanks, glamour.com!
> 
> I haven't been in a hotel room in years, and I honestly don't remember what they look like. sue me.
> 
> the fruit drinks I can't shut the fuck up about are called sparkling ice. I personally prefer "black raspberry" but my dad likes the peach ones, so I guess that they're all good, with the exception of the cherry limeade. I'm usually a sucker for cherry/strawberry lime things but the sparkling ice version of it tastes like island piss.
> 
> don't make fun of my old pseud, I made this account in sixth grade.
> 
> I've been a fan of rami since I was fourteen, so I gotta refer to him as "malek" if I want to keep any shred of childhood innocence I have left.
> 
> comments fuel me. I might write more of this, so if there's anything you like or anything you'd like to see, let me know!
> 
> if rami or charlie ever see this, I'll eat a bowl of bullets for breakfast with a nice metal spoon.


End file.
